Nineteen Years
by LadiSmilePretty
Summary: The days and moments that brought Harry, Hermione and Ron back to Kings Cross Station nineteen years after the Battle of Hogwarts. *DISCONTINUED*
1. Year One

_Author's Note: Hello all. So after watching the last movie I have been almost obsessed with this story that I've been trying to write. It is set mostly in the realm of the movies, with some references to the book, basically it's just me mushing it all together. I'm gonna write this in sort of snapshots of times during the year. I believe there will be a big picture kind of plot, but I haven't quite figured it out yet. Well, enjoy! _

Harry could still feel the weight of the Elder wand long after he had thrown it into the never ending canyon. He knew Ron and Hermione were still watching him when he turned and walked back into the castle. A pebble passed his feet; he looked back and saw that his friends were following him, holding hands. 'About damn time,' he thought smiling to himself.

They entered the main foyer and stood in the door way of the Great Hall, their eyes searching the crowd not really looking for anything or anyone. Just taking everything in. "What do we do now?" Ron asked looking from  
>Hermione to Harry.<p>

"I don't know." Harry said. He had never given it much thought, always assuming he wouldn't live past today. He had been living for this day his whole life, and without Voldermort he didn't know what else there was to do. He looked to Hermione for an answer. She just shook her head and shrugged, too drained to speak.

"There you all are!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed from behind them, Ginny not far behind her. "We have been looking everywhere for you three." She stopped once she noticed Hermione and Ron's intertwined fingers, and raised her  
>eyebrows at her son. Hermione's face turned bright red, pulling her hand away as if she had been burnt. "It's quite alright darling." Mrs. Weasley chuckled pulling Hermione into a motherly hug. "I'm so glad Ron has you." She said tears filling her eyes. She took Hermione's face in her hands and kissed her forehead. "He doesn't know how lucky he is." She whispered. "Make sure you remind him. I love him more than my own life, but he's not that bright."<p>

"Mum!" Ron exclaimed, clearly hearing every word. Mrs. Weasley patted her son's face.

"I'm sorry dear. But it's true. You've been mooning over her for years now." Mrs. Weasley sighed looking past Ron. "Excuse me." She scooted in between Ron and Hermione and made a bee-line for her husband. Ron watched her with a distant look in his eyes, no doubt thinking about Fred.

Hermione reached for Ron's hand again, successfully pulling him out of his trace. "I should probably..." He said gesturing over to his family.

Hermione nodded. "I'll meet you over there." Ron reached over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you." Ron mumbled. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but chose against it and followed his mother's leave.

Harry smirked at Hermione, causing her to blush. "What?" She asked incredulously.

"Oh nothing. Not a thing. It's not like there was a ground breaking change between my two best friends." Harry said sarcastically.

"Oh please." Hermione sighed. "It's not like we weren't going to tell you."

"Sure you were." Harry sighed putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked deeper through the Great Hall. "So what happened?"

"Short version?" Hermione asked, when Harry nodded she continued. "I stabbed the Cup, and then there was a lot of water, and then I kissed him. Well we kind of kissed each other."

"It's about damn time." Harry said echoing his earlier thought.

"Well you know impending doom kind of pushes you to tie up loose ends." Hermione noted nonchalantly.

"Apparently." Harry mumbled looking his gaze somehow finding Ginny.

Hermione followed his eye line. "You should probably go talk to her." Harry contemplated this for just a moment and then nodded and did as he was told. Hermione watched as he walked up to Ginny, shuffling his feet and pushing his hands in his pockets as far as they could go. She smiled softly at his shyness. The man had just killed Voldermort and he blushed talking to a girl he liked.

Hermione felt arms encircle her waist and a head rest on her shoulder. She knew it was Ron immediately, placing her hands on top of his, trying to bury herself in his embrace. "'Ello." He whispered in her ear, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms.

"Hello." Hermione whispered back. "How are your parents?" She asked glancing at the Weasley family, huddled around Fred's blanket covered body. Bill was sitting on a half destroyed bench with his head on Fluer's shoulder, George, sitting on the ground below, with his head on Bill's knee, Fluer rubbing soothing circles on his back, and Molly and Arthur, talking in shushed tones a few feet away.

Hermione felt Ron shrug, pulling out of the embrace, she turned to look him in the eye. "Will you promise me something?" He asked not looking up from his shoes. "Promise that you'll stay with me? Until the funeral that is?"

"Of course I will." Hermione cupped his face in her hands. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

Ron let his breath go as if he was holding it in for her answer. He knew she was lying but he didn't want to change her mind. He needed her now more then he would ever admit to her.

- 3 days later -

It rained the day they buried Fred. The Hogwarts grounds were still covered in rubble. Too much to simply start the castle's recovery.

"We will rebuild," Professor McGonagall had said, "Once the echoes of the battle are not ringing in our ears."

"I wouldn't hold your breath Professor," Ron spat bitterly.

Professor McGonagall reached forward placing a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder. "In due time Mr. Weasley." Then more quietly as if she were trying to convince herself too, "This too shall pass."

The rest of the day had passed somberly. No one dare making more noise then was necessary. Song birds provided the only soundtrack as twelve people were lowered into the ground. Albus Dombledore's grave not far behind.

Professor McGonagall had said a few words, but they were just white noise falling on Harry's ears. He sat there with his hands in his lap staring straight ahead at the large stone blocks behind today's proceedings. He knew that today and the days prior would weigh on his soul for years to come.

- 1 month, 3 days later –

A fresh blanket of dried leaves had just laid themselves down when Hermione apparated onto the grass path leading to the Burrow. She had traveled all the way to Australia to retrieve her parents. She had gotten all the way to their front door, and realized they were safe here. Voldermort was gone, but there were still death eaters. She needed Ron. She turned on the spot and returned to the Burrow.

She walked on the dead leaves and grass, small and loud crunches and crackles came from under each of her footsteps. Hermione's eyes focused sharply on the door to the kitchen. A ball of light shot out from somewhere in the yard and toward the light fixed above the door. She followed the trail the ball of light left to a red haired figure, waiting. Waiting for her.

Ron didn't speak until she was right in front of him. "You called?" He smirked at her.

Hermione scrunched her face in confusion, than realization dawned on her. The deluminator. She must have called out to him before she apparated. "Did you hear me?" She asked in awe.

Ron just nodded cupping her face in his hands and placing a soft kiss on her lips. Ron guided her through the quiet Burrow. It was late and everyone must have already retired for the night. When they reached the landing before Ron's room Hermione could see the light seeping from under the doorway. Ron opened the door for her, placing his other hand on the small of her back shuffling her in the room.

Harry looked from the window to the doorway. "Hermione?"

"I can't, not yet." Hermione burst out, her breathing coming harder and faster. Ron intertwined his fingers with hers, and she visibly calmed. After a few deep breaths she continued. "Voldermort may be dead, but there are still death eaters." Echoing her thoughts from her parents door step. "I can't bring my parents home until I know it is completely safe."

Harry looked down at his dirty sneakers. The same sneakers that still had blood and dust on them. He nodded slowly. "She's right." He said more to himself. He looked at Ron and Hermione. "What do you suppose we do?"

- 1 months, 1 week, 2 days later -

The new Minister of Magic, Mr. Owen Bogart, sat looking rather uncomfortably in the living room of the Burrow. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on the couch across from him, almost mirroring their positions from almost a year ago. Mr. Bogart cleared his throat. "Do you know why I am here?"

Hermione had an idea. It hadn't been more than more than three days since Hermione had made her sudden return from Australia. She knew her thoughts must have been those of some of the Order as well. Harry, Ron and her had already been making plans. All three sat there unmoving, staring at the minister.

Mr. Bogart cleared his throat again, "Well, as you very well know, You-Know-Who-"

"Voldermort," The three of them corrected at once.

The minister squirmed in his chair, clearly not used to hearing the Dark Lords name yet. "Yes, as I was saying... Voldermort," He continued practically choking over the name, "had many followers. It is completely plausible that one of them, or many of them, for that matter, may try to continue the Dark Lord's work." This was said as a statement, the minister clearly believed the theory full heartedly.

"With all due respect, Minister, we may be young, but we are certainly not daft." Hermione spat.

Ron whipped his head toward his girlfriend, a playful smirk toying with the corners of his lips, "Hermione," he whistled. "Bloody brilliant."

Hermione's cheeks grew rosy as she bowed her head trying to conceal her pride. "I'm afraid you are correct Ms. Grainger." The minister sighed. For a moment he seemed to relax in his chair, than it was quickly washed away with exhaustion. An exhaustion they recognized immediately, because they felt it too. It was a deflating feeling, when all the fight in you is gone, and you must keep moving forward. Keep fighting, keep carrying on. It is a completely draining, numbing, feeling. "I'm afraid that the Ministry has not been on your side. They have looked you over because of your age, and above all fear." He leaned forward trying to get an important fact through to them. "Mr. Potter, when you had come out of the Wizarding Tournament claiming to have seen … Voldermort," again he choked over the letters, "People who were there when he rose to power the first time, were scared, if what you said was true, many of them, as they have, would die. It is easy for one to hide from the truth and blame the child who had seemingly started the turmoil."

Harry sat back, visibly rolling the ministers words in his mind. He had never blamed any one for hating him. He understood their pain, as well as their fear.

"We need your," Mr. Bogart said his voice now strong with purpose. "We need the Order's help." He added much quieter. "We need to find and capture the remaining death eaters and assess their level of danger."

"What's your plan?" Harry asked.

- 2 months, 2 weeks, 4 days later –

"Happy birthday Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she shoved a small misshaped cake in his hands.

"Blimey," Harry said rotating the cake cautiously, Harry missed Mrs. Weasley more than ever in that moment, "Thanks Hermione." He finished trying to conceal his trepidation.

"I tried to make it the best I could, but its quiet cramped in that kitchen, and the stove is really too small for a cake." Hermione replied, her cheeks blushing at her cooking skills, Harry just glanced at the small makeshift kitchen. The moving 'headquarters' the minister provided was barely sufficient for one person, let alone three.

They rarely complained about the small quarters. Ron and Hermione barely apart even if there was room, and Harry had adapted quickly, remembering the small cupboard he that used to be his sanctuary.

"Okay, okay, so I'm not that good of a cook." Hermione pushed the hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear.

"It really is great Hermione," Harry said trying to reassure her. "Thank you." He said sincerely once he had caught her gaze.

Hermione smiled, standing and heading for her long deep violet cloak, "I'll take first watch." Harry nodded as she slipped her cloak on and slipped out the door.

Harry placed the cake on the table and rubbed his eyes with his palm. He had thought on their latest exhibition to track down Death Eaters that he would feel some sort of accomplishment or purpose. Harry still felt empty. As if he was missing a part of himself and on his more dark days, he knew what it was.

- 8 months, 3 weeks, 1 day later –

It was Christmas before Hermione knew it; she had done her small Christmas shopping while Ron and Harry slept in one morning. They had tracked Thorfinn Rowle to a small village not far from Godric's Hollow. She pulled her hood close to cover her face. She could not be more careful. She walked down the nearly empty alley way, her boot clicking on the cobblestone street. She took an immediate right down the next alley, her long cloak billowing behind her. Her wand slipped down her sleeve and into her waiting hand. She muttered and incantation and a door opened a few feet away from her. She slipped into the opening expertly closing the door soundly behind her. Locking the door for good measure, paranoia running ramped in her thoughts. She leaned her forehead against the old wooden door, taking slow breathes to calm herself.

"Oi!" She heard someone yell behind her. Ron.

She turned slowly, her arms outstretched showing she was unarmed. Ron's hand fell a few inches, and then completely when she dropped her hood. He let out a gust of air he hadn't realized he was holding. "Bloody 'ell, Hermione, I could have hurt you." He scolded her.

Hermione smirked at her boyfriend. "No you wouldn't have." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You never would have heard the end of it."

"As always you are correct," He mumbled against her lips.

Hermione pulled away after a few moments, Ron reaching up to place her hair back behind her ears, "Is Harry up?" She asked. Ron hummed clearly not listening, Hermione walked around him to set her things down on the make shift dining table. "Where's Harry?" She asked again.

"He's still sleeping. Why? What's happened?" The concern in Ron's voice was alarming to Hermione. Apparently, paranoia had not just plagued her.

Ron was standing very close to Hermione. She smiled gently placing a hand on his chest pushing him to sit in the nearest chair. She followed planting herself on his lap. She once again wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a soft reassuring kiss on his lips. "Relax Ron," She whispered, millimeters away from his mouth. He took a deep breath and let it out shakily, mostly due to her proximity. She had no idea what she did to him. "It's Christmas." She smiled, and he did too.

- 8 months, 4 weeks later –

It seemed too easy to Harry. Again they had defeated Rowle and Dolohov together. The Death Eater's had turned a dark corner in a back alley of the small village that Ron, Harry and Hermione had been staking out for weeks, with nothing. And then out of nowhere, there they were, half heartedly fighting for their freedom. None of the trio had spoken of it, but each knew that there was something wrong with the capture of Rowle and Dolohov. Something was not right.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice broke through his deep thoughts and the background of the Burrow, decorated for the New Year, came back into focus. "Harry, were you listening to me?" She asked placing a hand on his knee as if to keep him with her in this world.

"Hm?" Harry asked still a little dreamy, "I'm sorry love, what were you saying?"

Ginny took her hand back, and looked down at her lap. "It's close to midnight." She looked off toward the old clock on the far kitchen wall. Harry nodded, drifting back into his thoughts.

Hermione watched the exchange from over the top of her book, Ron next to her, Quidditch magazine in his lap and one hand on the leg Hermione had draped on his. "Hermione, he's fine." Ron mumbled not having to ask why her lips were pursed and tension wracked her body.

Hermione looked incredulously at Ron, noticing he was smirking, gave it all she had to relax. "It's just; I'm worried about him is all."

Ron sighed gently squeezing her leg, "I don't know who you'd be if you weren't." Hermione's hand found his as she continued her reading. He was right.

- 11 months, 3 weeks, 5 days later -

The snow had all but melted and tufts of new grass poked its way through the remaining sheets of ice and snow, before they set eyes on the castle again. It would be a year in two days time. The empty feeling that Harry carried around with him like a crutch was a gaping hole in his heart as he walked back onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Ron, Harry, and Hermione, had each received an owl requesting their presence at the castle.

Ron squeezed Hermione's hand as they walked across the once destroyed bridge. His hair had been cut short due to a half circle scar that was slowly forming around the outside of his right eye, the glass had cut off the long hair that nearly covered his eyes. Hermione had begged to cut his hair, and since he refused to let Hermione heal the cut, he let her without complaint. Every time he caught her staring he would just say it was a reminder, always adding, "Chicks dig scars, right?" Alecto Carrow had enchanted a broken wine bottle aiming the jagged part for Ron's temple, thankfully he hadn't succeeded. Hermione had bandaged him up as best she could, but it still looked angry. Ron's short hair and new scar made him seem dangerous.

Late at night, lying in his deceptively strong arms she would trace the scar with the smallest amount of pressure, begging him to let her heal it. "One day." He would always say. "One day, I won't need to look scary." She wanted to tell him that he didn't need to look intimidating to anyone, but she knew she would be lying. Intimidation did serve a purpose, even if she didn't like it.

The presence of Headmistress McGonagall brought Hermione out of her thoughts and into the present.

"I'm so glad you made it." She said hugging them in turn. "I wanted you to see this," her eyes concentrated on Harry, then to the couple to his right, "All of you."

They followed her through the halls, she explained how the rebuild went, how Neville and Luna hadn't left since the battle. They were both to begin teaching the next semester. "They were a tremendous help in getting it ready for the new first years. Many parents are still worried about sending their children here. It's quiet a shame, the amount of letters I've received from concerned parents."

The trio was silent for the whole tour. It wasn't until they had reached the doors of the Great Hall did Harry speak. "You were wrong Professor." He stood stock still in the door way.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall clearly confused.

Harry cleared his throat as to be strong for what he was about to say. "I can still hear it." He took a deep breath, "I can still hear his voice. I can hear their screams. I can still hear it."

There was so much pity in Professor McGonagall's eyes. Harry never wanted her to pity him. She stepped closer, and all the pity was gone, replaced by pride. "Oh, Potter," She placed her hands on his shoulder. "I can too. And that is a part of what makes you so incredible." At Harry's confusion, she continued. "Your heart, Mr. Potter."

_Author's Note: So? How'd you like it? Please review. I don't mean to sound shallow or harsh, but if no one takes an interest, I just might not finish. ; )_


	2. Year Two

_Author's note: Hello all, thank you so much for reading my first chapter, I'm pretty excited about this story, hopefully the point gets across, I know for some of you this may seem like an odd way to finish this story, but I don't think everything would be marshmellows and butterflies after they killed Voldermort. So here's the second chapter, hopefully you all like it! _

- 1 year later -

The anniversary was a great deal harder then he thought. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach the instant he opened his blue eyes. He groaned knowing he could not sleep through this day. He rolled over and placed his feet firmly on the solid floor of his old dormitory, the ancient rug scratching against his toes. He groped the night table for his glasses. With his vision finally clear he could see Ron and Hermione curled up next to each other on Ron's old bed. He smiled at them. He was elated for his friends, although unable to voice his own feelings. Harry still could not tell Ginny exactly how he felt.

He could barely look at her without getting a sick fluttering in his stomach. He couldn't bear to think about her when he was away. Just the idea of being able to hold her the way that Ron could hold Hermione was enough to break Harry's heart. A year ago today he had kissed her on the steps, Hogwarts falling all around them, her claiming that she knew. But to them the world as they knew it might have ended, 'I know' said as such a cliché, placating him to continue his mission, Harry would think on his darker days.

He loved her that much was obvious. Is that what she knew? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Harry couldn't think of love at a time like this. They wouldn't be here if they hadn't just captured the Carrow's. They were caught off guard in a deserted Romanian village. But the actual capture, something didn't add up. The Carrow's were the fifth and sixth death eater's they have captured, and each time it was like they were just giving up in the end. If not for Professor McGonagall's unexpected owl, he would not have stepped foot on the castle grounds.

There was a soft knock at the door; Hermione moaned in her sleep at the sound, Harry shushed Hermione instinctually, practically tip-toeing across the room. Wand in hand.

He pried the door open slowly only enough room for one eye to peek out. "For Christ sake Harry!" Ginny practically shouted. She was in no mood for his paranoia.

Harry rushed to open the door and enter the hallway that Ginny now stood in. "Ginny? What are you doing here?" Harry hissed. As soon as the words left his mouth he was ashamed. Not at the words themselves, but at the tone he had used. The same tone he uses to integrate.

Ginny took a step back as if he has scolded her. "I came to see you." Her face was calm and collected now, remembering why she came, her temper starting to boil under the surface, "I'm sick of your piss poor letters, I want to know for once and for all what the hell it is you want." Her voice rising with every word, so much so she had to pause to calm herself. She had practiced this too much and too long to have her emotions get the best of her now. "I can't keep waiting for a ghost. I just need… some reassurance…" She said barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked, "there's still too much danger, I just want to-"

"If you say that you want to keep me safe, I swear to God I'll scream." Ginny couldn't even look at Harry, her eyes were scanning the hall behind him, glazing over with unshed tears. "I can't wait around forever, Harry. I don't care if it's safe or not, don't you love me? That's all I need to know." She finally looked him in the eye, letting a tear slip down her cheek. She did not make a move to remove it. She wanted him to see it. She wanted him to feel some amount of the hurt he caused her. The months of not knowing, reading the papers to get word of him. Getting letters that don't say anything, all cryptic and vague.

In the mere seconds that had passed, Ginny's mind had whirled with questions, what if he doesn't love me? What if he never cared for me? She tried to slow them down but they just kept piling up, the amount of questions equaling the amount of tears behind her eyes.

"Of course." Harry whispered. He bowed his head in shame at the sight of her tear. He couldn't look at her. Ginny rushed to wipe away the irrational tears that had fallen.

It was silent for the longest time, only Ginny's sniffles broke the silence. "Okay," She whispered. "How many more do you have?"

"Twelve." Harry recited. The ministry had given them a list. Voldermort's closest circle of Death Eaters. These were their biggest priority. Harry knew every name and every relative of that name, when he closed his eyes at night that list was imprinted onto his lids.

"Okay," She whispered again. She was clearly thinking over her options.

"Ginny?" Harry said breaking into her thought. "Please?" He said stepping closer to her, taking her hands in his. He couldn't lose her.

"Please what?" She did not want to give in. She was not going to appear weak.

"Please don't…" Harry stopped not knowing where to start. "I can't ask you to stay."

Ginny stepped back clearly not expecting this. Harry continued. "It's not far of me to ask you to wait for me. I do love you Ginny, that is hardly the problem. But there's something going on. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's as if the Death Eater's are just letting us capture them. I can't put my finger on it. I think it has to do with Rudolphus Lestrange. It's not safe for you."

Ginny just stared at him, her mouth opened slightly in shock. "I'm not waiting for you." She turned and walked out of the hall leaving Harry to watch her go.

Ron and Hermione could hear the whole exchange, shutting their eyes quickly as Harry reentered the room. "I know you're awake. I saw the extendable ear in the hallway." He said sitting down on the edge of his bed.

Ron was the first to sit up. "Well, she is my sister after all."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh Ron," she sat up and turned to Harry, "For the record I told Ron it was a bad idea and that he shouldn't do it, but since he did, why are you pushing her away?"

"I don't want her getting hurt," Harry mumbled through gritted teeth, his bed sheets clamped in his fists.

"I'm sure she could hold her own," Hermione insisted, pulling her hair back securely.

Harry wanted to scream. "That's not the point Hermione! What if she did get hurt and I wasn't, or I couldn't –" He choked. He couldn't finish the rest of that sentence.

Hermione leaned back as if Harry had actually lashed out at her, Ron a statue next to her, his face mirroring professor McGonagall's from just a few days ago. Pity. He knew exactly what Harry felt. It was what Ron felt in the Malfoy's basement. Completely and utterly helpless.

"Okay mate." Ron finally said nodding his head. "I get it."

Hermione looked at her boyfriend incredulously and then to Harry, "Will you just write her more often? You could have avoided this whole thing." She said throwing a pillow at him.

Harry looked at Ron as if asking for an explanation on Hermione's actions; he just shrugged, earning his own pillow being slug in his face.

- 1 year, 3 months, 2 weeks, 4 days later -

Ron watched from under the invisibility cloak as Crabbe entered a pub up the street. The same pub he had watched Goyle walk in not twenty minutes before him. They were certainly not the smartest Death Eater's. Ron walked with confidence toward the pub. He threw the cloak off and shoved it in his saddle bag. His steel toed boots hitting the cobble stones, he had vague flashes of the old American westerns he used to watch with his father, when his mother wasn't home of course. In this moment he was a cowboy, his spurs jangling.

He strode through the back alley and entered through the kitchen. The old haggard cook looked up from his stew pot; Ron put his finger up to his lips to silence him. The cook nodded and turned back to his stew. Ron walked to the waiters swinging door and peered through the circle window. He felt a small hand slip into his; he didn't need to look who it was. He wrenched the arm behind him, dragging its owner against the far wall. "What are you doing here?" He spit through gritted teeth.

Hermione yanked her arm free and pushed him with both hands, causing him to stubble backwards. "I'm here to help you, you stupid arse. I saw you take the cloak off before you walked in the alley, I followed you."

"I thought you were tracking Selwyn?" Ron asked his anger dying into concern.

"I was, I caught up to him and when he went to apparate I grabbed on to him. I landed down the street from you, no Selwyn." Hermione zipped her hoodie up all the way as she told Ron her tale.

Ron looked toward the circle window again. They were starting something. "Stay here," he moved toward the window, noticing Hermione following him again, he stopped, "Please?" Ron heard the cook chuckle, his ears burned.

Hermione of course did not listen. She pointed her wand to the top of her head and gave herself a stylish, platinum bob. "I've always wanted to use that." She scrunched up her nose and grabbed a tray of butter beer, and strutted out of the kitchen letting her hips sway wide.

Ron rushed to the window, she leaned over the table that Crabbe and Goyle were seated at, laying down two glasses for them. Goyle grabbed her arm. Ron pushed the door open to hear the conversation, "You look like this filthy little mudblood I know." Goyle wrenched her arm so that she was facing Crabbe, away from Ron, "Look, doesn't she look like Grainger?"

"Yeah she does," Crabbe said standing, moving to get a better look.

"You know," Hermione started in her best American accent, "I get that all the time."

Crabbe grabbed her chin in his large sausage fingers, her disguise clearly not fooling him. Hermione saw him slip his wand out from his pocket. She didn't think, it was pure adrenaline. She brought her fist down into Goyle's face, successfully knocking him and his chair over. Backing up fast she tried to pull her wand out of her back pocket, it was too late. "Crucio!"

She stopped everything she was doing, moving, blinking, breathing. All she could do was scream. The room filled with blue and green light, zooming across the room, past Hermione's glazed over eyes. She heard shouting and glass shattering, steel toe boots hitting something, hard, and then it was black.

She didn't know how long she was out. She could see subdued sunlight seep from under her eyelids. She could hear fabric shuffling somewhere in the room. Someone was running their fingers through her hair, the sensation absolutely sublime, if she didn't have the overwhelming feeling that she was going to lose whatever lunch she still had in her stomach.

She opened one eye, groaning at the spinning sensation, as if she had drank uncontrollably the night before. "Shh," Ron slipped his arm under her head and cradled her against his body, "its okay."

Hermione didn't care that she wanted to vomit; she wanted to be near him more. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, "I'm sorry," she croaked, her voice breaking from being unused.

"It's okay," Ron resumed running his fingers through her hair. "I signaled for Shaklebolt the second you picked that tray up."

Hermione buried her face in his chest. "I'm so sorry," She finally looked up at him, the bags under his eyes were a deep purple, he had not slept the night before.

"I really don't want you to go on any more missions," Ron whispered, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. She opened her mouth to speak but Ron stopped her. "I can't stop you from going, and Merlin knows we need your help. But I think you should know that I don't want you to."

Hermione lifted her hand and gently traced the scar over his right eye, "I could say the same to you." Ron moved his head, never breaking eye contact, and kissed the palm of her hand. "You can't always be there to protect me." Hermione whispered.

"You can't blame me for wanting to." Ron said pulling Hermione so that she was eye level with him. "You know I love you right?"

Hermione nodded bringing her lips to meet his.

- 1 year, 7 months, 1 week, 2 days later –

The first year after the war, before he had become Minister of Magic, Kingley Shacklebolt would come and deliver messages to them while they were out on missions. Arthur Weasley and him were the only ones that were able to find the trio. As of late, with the Death Eater attacks becoming less and less coincidental, Shacklebolt had not had time to deliver the letters direct. And that is why today found Harry pointing the firing end of his wand in Seamus Finnegan's face.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Harry! I'm on your side!" Seamus practically shouted shoving up his sleeves to show the bare skin there. "I'm just the messenger." Seamus shoved his way past Harry into the very dark and sparse living area, if you could even call it that. The room only contained a cot, the blankets haphazardly thrown about, a small side table, with a glass of water and an old torn book, and a ratty old couch. "Wow," Seamus whistled, "I love what you've done with the place."

Harry rolled his eyes, holding out his hand, "You said you were a messenger?"

Seamus' eyes widened, "Oh I'm great, thanks for asking Harry." He reached into his bag and pulled out a large bundle of envelopes. "Oh it's great seeing you too Harry," Seamus continued mocking his old friend, handing him the bundle.

"Seamus," Harry began, trying to explain why he was so cold.

Seamus shook his head already knowing where this was going. "Don't worry about it. I still sleep with my wand." He shrugged and stepped around Harry heading for the still open door. "Oh, Shacklebolt wanted me to give you a message." He cleared his throat dramatically. "Ms. Weasley has returned to school at Hogwarts."

"Seamus," Harry tried to explain again, but Seamus put a hand up to stop him.

"I don't know what's going on with you and Ginny, but I would probably do the same thing if I was in your position. It's in our blood as men to protect. We can't help it." He shrugged again and mock saluted to Harry as he left, closing the door behind him.

Harry slumped into the old ratty couch pulling the bundle on to his lap; he gingerly pulled the brilliant red ribbon off and started sorting them into three piles. Hermione's, Ron's, and Harry's. Harry had been writing Ginny for months, he truly did not want to lose her from his life, but each letter sent out, never came with a reply. After the tenth letter he considered stopping, then he scraped that idea. He wanted Ginny, even though he had a job to do now, he would win her back.

Ginny, however, would write Hermione and Ron back, answering questions Harry had asked her. They of course would relay the message to him, but it wasn't the same. She was still angry, and he was still sorry.

He paused on a small envelope, the return address of Ottery St. Catchpole. Ginny's neat script spelled out his name. _Harry Potter._ Such a plan name, but in her handwriting looked elegant, at least to him. He doubts anyone would really share his feelings.

He traced the letters with his fingers, as if that would somehow bring her presence into the small dark room. He flipped the envelope over and ripped through the wax that sealed it.

_Dear Harry, _

_I haven't been able to write you. I've tried. I have scraped thousands of pieces of parchment. I've broken at least five quills, but I miss you. Something terribly actually. I start school soon. Mum had insisted. Well more like demanded. I'm kind of scared. To go back. Neville's teaching Herbology now and Luna Divinations. But you probably already know that. God, I miss you. _

_Ginny. _

Harry held the letter close to his chest, letting out a sigh of release. She still loved him. She didn't say as much, but he knew, just like she knew that he loved her. They were meant for each other, no matter what was happening now, he knew that in the end, it would be them.

-1 year, 11 months, 3 weeks, 6 days-

The news of the third break out of Azkaban had not been a surprise to them. For almost a year now they had known the Death Eaters were planning something. Harry had a hunch that they were going to try to bring back the Dark Lord. It seemed almost obvious. All the vandalism, the fires, the riots, it seemed as if they were trying to be noticed, but it seemed as least to an outsiders view that the Ministry was ignoring them. As if they were a petulant child, the parent just does not feel like scolding at the moment. The third mass break out was the proverbial last straw.

Ever since Shacklebolt had taken office he had worked on a second Wizarding jail, trying to correct the mistakes of Azkaban's security, it was nearly ready when the break out occurred. The Ministry had made quick work of finishing and moving all those who had not escaped to the new facility, Fort Phoenix.

Luckily the work that Ron, Harry, and Hermione had accomplished had not been done in vain. Dolohov, Rowle, the Carrow's, Crabbe and Goyle had stayed very much detained, as they were being held under twenty four hour surveillance.

It angered Ron when he thought back and realized they had only captured six Death Eaters in almost two years. He wanted this to be over, his patience was wearing on him as he paced back and forth in the kitchen, Hermione washing the dishes by hand for something to busy herself with. "Ron," Hermione whispered her back still to him. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

He stopped for a moment, as if considering this, then his thoughts getting the better of him he continued to pace. Hermione sighed exhaustedly at the rustle of clothes.

She turned off the water and pulled the dish towel off the hook on the wall, wiping her hands of the excess water slowly. She watched Ron move under the horrible florescent lighting, somehow making the scars on his face and arms stand out tenfold. She looked down at her own arm, _MUDBLOOD_ written out in pink scar tissue. She traced the letters gingerly, she had tried in vain to heal them, but whatever she did, it stayed with her, reminding her. She knew better of course, cursed injuries cannot be healed by magic, but the child in her still felt the need to try. The strong feeling of being watched came over her; she lifted her brown eyes to see Ron's clear blue ones watching her.

He had stopped his pacing, and watched her careful movements. She had worn long sleeves ever since that night, only taking of her coverings in the comfort of her own home, usually just around Ron. As the months flew she would sometimes forget about her scars, every time someone would catch sight of it, her cheeks would turn crimson. Everyone always had the same expression. Pity. It seemed the trio got that look a lot. He took two very slow steps toward her. She dropped her arms once she had noticed. He took her forearm in his hand, and ever so gently brought her scars to his lips, kissing every single letter. "I'm so sorry." He whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing her close to him.

She nodded into his chest, lifting her head to meet his gaze, "I know." She said against his lips, if it were possible he pulled her closer.

_Author's note: So how'd you like it? Good? Bad? Please let me know. I love that you all have added this to your favorite story or me to your favorite author, I truly appreciate it. Write me, let me know what you think, if you have any questions, I'd love to hear from you. _


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